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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075826">Demonstrations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow'>entanglednow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autofellatio, Bodies How Do They Work, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Flexible Crowley, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kink Meme, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Voyeurism, consensual voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:01:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Crowley drunkenly confesses to being very flexible indeed, and Aziraphale would like a demonstration.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Top Aziraphale Recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Demonstrations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Just because everyone thinks something's true, doesn't make it true," Crowley complains, from where he's sprawled across two thirds of the sofa. "Humans can't just make things true by thinking them really hard. They're not <i>us</i>. It's like one of those impossible sex acts." He gestures enthusiastically with his glass of wine, and manages not to spill a drop only via the use of occult powers. "Y'know, the ones where everyone knows someone who's done it, or they swear they've seen it, in some grainy video. Only they're obviously lying. I mean, fine, someone somewhere probably has done because, <i>humans</i>, right? But maybe it's only one person ever, and it was only because they were, I dunno, a Hungarian contortionist who lost four ribs in some sort of tragic railway accident. Or they were born with too many arms or something. Special cases. The rest of them are obviously bullshit."</p>
<p>Aziraphale is nodding agreement, leaning forward out of his comfortable armchair, so he can refill both their glasses.  </p>
<p>"Lurid exaggeration does seem to be something of a theme," he agrees.</p>
<p>Crowley nods, jabbing a finger in his direction to tell him he's made a good point. He's really getting into the conversation now, because it's always better when Aziraphale is on board for the ride, <i>always</i>. I mean what's the point of going anywhere without Aziraphale, really? </p>
<p>"Right, yes, like - like sucking your own dick, everyone knows someone who's heard of someone, or someone's brother's girlfriend's uncle who knows someone who could do it. But even the people who can physically bend themselves that far, they're not actually sucking themselves off, are they?" Crowley moves a hand between head and crotch, to demonstrate the distance, because it's obviously ridiculous. Humans are not bloody accordions. "Not <i>properly</i>, they're not - I mean getting the head of their dick in their mouth maybe, for, a bit, a minute or something. But they're not actually - they're not actively -" He makes a gesture, both hands thrusting downwards vigorously, and his wine briefly chooses to stop obeying all laws of physics. "No one's deep-throating themself. That's impossible, your human spine doesn't bend like that." </p>
<p>Crowley stops, because he thinks he's made his point - no, actually he hasn't made his point, the point came at the end. He waves a hand at his own chest. </p>
<p>"I mean, I can do it, obviously. Since I'm, eh, at least thirty percent snake, even in this body. Spine's like a bloody - thingy, goes round your neck? Ngh, not important, I'm just saying I can do it, because I'm not human."</p>
<p>"Really?" Aziraphale is giving him a surprised and intrigued look, over half a bottle of wine and an empty glass. As if he'd completely forgotten to pour during Crowley's whole rant. "Oh, I would love to see that," he says, with an unexpected amount of enthusiasm.</p>
<p>Crowley's glass sloshes a little, drifts away from his mouth, and the bookshop is filled with pointed silence for half a minute. Before Crowley cracks out a surprised laugh.</p>
<p>Aziraphale seems to realise, belatedly, exactly what he'd just said. He looks flustered, then apologetic, then apologetically flustered. The hand that isn't holding wine fiddles with the button on his friendly, drinking cardigan. Crowley likes the cardigan, it makes the angel look soft, and appealingly touchable.</p>
<p>"What I mean to say is - I don't expect to, obviously," Aziraphale explains hastily. "I would never compel you to do such a thing, of course. I've just never seen it done before. I'd heard it was possible for extraordinarily flexible humans, but as you say, I was never sure if that was an exaggeration, or wishful thinking." He stops, eyebrows pulling together. "I'm sorry, I've had rather a lot of wine," he finishes, which Crowley suspects he's hoping will be enough of an excuse to let him off his obviously lurid suggestion.</p>
<p>Ha! Not a chance.</p>
<p>The part of Crowley that normally judges whether he's about to say something to Aziraphale drunk that he absolutely wouldn't say to him sober, seems to currently be napping. Which is good, because he's about to take horrible advantage of its inattention.</p>
<p>"I could show you, if you want?" he offers, before the angel can apologise himself into an anxiety attack. Crowley has also had a lot of wine tonight, which may go some way to explaining how that comes out so calm, and so reasonable. When he's effectively offering to perform a sex act on himself in front of his best friend. Who, until this moment, he had assumed had no interest in watching him perform in any way. </p>
<p>Aziraphale's clearly surprised by the offer, though his expression very quickly melts into something that looks flushed and interested. Eyes bright in that way they tend get when he's drunk. Honestly, the angel can't hide shit once he's more than seventeen glasses deep.</p>
<p>"Would you?" The breathy surprise makes it sound like Crowley would be doing him a favour. "I mean, well, if you wouldn't find that overly personal. I'm sure I would find it fascinating to see."</p>
<p>Fascinating. <i>Fascinating to see</i>.</p>
<p>It's quite a bit more than personal, Crowley reasons, when your best friend asks you to provide proof, a visual demonstration as it were, of the fact that you're physically capable of sucking yourself off. But, in Aziraphale's defence -  which is a place that Crowley will always stand - they've been friends for a very long time. There's probably a lot that's excusable. A lot they've already excused.</p>
<p>Armageddon has been and gone, or not been and gone, as the case may be. There's no one looking over their shoulders. No one making a point of telling them they couldn't watch each other perform sex acts if they wanted to. If that was something they wanted to do. They're free to do as they please now.</p>
<p>Crowley should absolutely do it, just on principle. He exhales hard and sets his wine down somewhere it's not going to spill on anything important, then looks around for a place that might work. The fact that the books are kind of everywhere does make it a bit complicated.</p>
<p>"Ah, I usually put down some pillows for support. Then I either go up on my shoulders, let it - let it - let gravity do the work, though it's a bit tough to get any sort of rhythm going like that. Or I could curl over from a seated position, or a kneeling position. It's easier to keep my throat open with those two, get all the way down. Though don't think you'd see much like that, suppose you'd want to see it?" Crowley's never done this for an audience before.</p>
<p>But Aziraphale's nodding, as if Crowley has made a perfectly normal point in a perfectly normal conversation.</p>
<p>Crowley's brain tries to drag his attention back to the fact that he's seriously considering how to best display his autofellatio talents for Aziraphale's viewing pleasure. But the rest of his brain has had a lot to drink and refuses to listen. Aziraphale had requested to see him suck his own cock, and by Satan, Crowley is going to show him.</p>
<p>"Maybe I could make it work on m'side?" He's trying to sound like he's considering this as a very important demonstration, and not something lewdly pornographic, because Aziraphale deserves better than that. Though he's afraid it may have come out more lewd than he intended. In Crowley's defence, he's had fantasies that start out a lot like this, and he's a bit worried that his drunk brain will get confused. But he knows damn well that if he sobers up this isn't going to happen at all. Sober Crowley is a fucking coward.</p>
<p>Sober Crowley cannot get things done.</p>
<p>Aziraphale shakily sets down his own newly poured wine, sloshing half of it across his hand.</p>
<p>"Perhaps upstairs would be better for your, ah, demonstration?" The flush is very attractive on Aziraphale's face. Crowley thinks he's allowed to notice that now, that Aziraphale is allowed to let him notice it. He wants to touch it, see if it feels as warm as it looks. </p>
<p>"Right, demonstration," Crowley agrees. He's not entirely sure if this is a come on or not. He really fucking hopes so. They've been sort of flirting since the end of the world, but it's been mostly of the 'oops, my hand accidentally touched yours when I passed you a wine glass,' sort of flirting, and not 'come upstairs and watch me deep-throat my own cock,' sort of flirting. So it's all a bit confusing.</p>
<p>There's a strong possibility that they're both too drunk for this. But Aziraphale is already rising, patting down his trousers and then looking at Crowley expectantly.</p>
<p>Right, yes, upstairs then.</p>
<p>Aziraphale beats him up there, mostly because Crowley doubles back to finish his wine - not that he needed any more - before following him. </p>
<p>He finds the angel sitting primly on an unexpectedly large Edwardian bed, hands laid demurely on his thighs, feet together. It's like he's prepared to be the world's most well-behaved audience of one. An old fashioned cushioned stool has been pushed aside to give Crowley a decent amount of floor space. More than enough really, he's very bendy he can curl himself into a pretzel if necessary. Seriously, if Aziraphale knew half the positions he woke up in sometimes.</p>
<p>Sometimes even on the ceiling for Satan's sake.</p>
<p>"Eh, you alright if I take my clothes off then?" Crowley asks, because that's probably an important first step. Clothes are just going to get in the way. </p>
<p>"Ah, of course, of course, please feel free to disrobe in your own time." Aziraphale waves his hand enthusiastically, as if Crowley's about to show him a particularly exciting magic trick. Ha! He'd like that wouldn't he - well, Crowley's definitely going to be making something disappear. </p>
<p>"Right." Crowley lets his boots melt back into feet and then snaps his fingers, leaving himself a stretch of casual nudity in Aziraphale's bedroom, one hand holding the pile of his clothes, belt looped tidily on top. "Here, hold that would you, since you'll only fuss if I toss it on the floor."</p>
<p>Aziraphale blinks and focuses on his face. "What? Oh, yes, I would indeed," he agrees, taking the pile and settling Crowley's clothes next to him on the bed while he watches Crowley kneel. "Are you going to need pillows, you mentioned them, I have pillows." He gestures behind him, towards the headboard.</p>
<p>Of course he does, fussy, indulgent thing that he is.</p>
<p>Crowley considers it, he's doing this for an audience after all. He's doing it for Aziraphale and he's going to want to watch - he's going to watch Crowley - which is suddenly making kneeling in front of him, stripped naked, an entirely different experience than it was a second ago. The erection is not going to be a problem, he's most of the way there already.</p>
<p>Right, no, no unnecessary excitement, this is a demonstration, <i>for science</i>. He's going to be fascinating. He's going to be lewdly fascinating, and Aziraphale is going to be fucking impressed. He's going to be enthralled by Crowley's natural talents. </p>
<p>"Yeah, pass me a couple. Like I said, I'll lay on my side with one shoved under my hip, you should get a good view like that."</p>
<p>A good view of him sucking his own cock.</p>
<p>Aziraphale pulls two pillows down from the top of the bed, puffs them carefully and then hands them down with a smile, and an interested, and possibly also excited, noise. Crowley shoves one between hip and thigh, raising and tilting himself a touch. The other he uses to brace his elbow up a bit higher. Then he pulls one leg up, drawing the knee back and giving himself a wide angle to curl into. He can already tell he can make it work like this, spine flexing in tight, eager clicks.</p>
<p>"So, yeah, obviously when I bend down and get my mouth - ah, occupied, I won't be able to talk. So if there's anything you want to ask, or say, or if you, y'know, want to change your mind, you should probably do it now."</p>
<p>Crowley leaves a pause, which Aziraphale takes a moment to realise is for him, and he gives a little twitch of attention, makes a flustered sound.</p>
<p>"Oh, of course, umm, jolly good. Should I do anything? No, no, probably not. Is it alright if I -" He stops, shakes his head, as if telling himself something is ridiculous. "No, no, I'm sure it will be fine. Please, please go ahead. I'm ready whenever you are." His hands give a brief slap on his thighs, before he curls them around his knees. "Whenever you're ready."</p>
<p>Crowley gives his cock a few slow pulls, feeling the weight of it tug and then spring back against his pelvis when he tests it. Perfect. Then he levers his knee back a little more, pushes himself up on a hand and curls down over his own bent leg.</p>
<p>It's just as easy as he remembers. He uses a thumb to tip his cock forward a bit, and opens his mouth. He lets his tongue touch first, the wide, flat, human spread of it, cupping the soft, eager head, then encouraging it into his mouth with a slow, curling sink. The dual sensation of a cock in his mouth, and the warm, wet slide of a mouth on his cock is uniquely appealing, and leaves the air rushing out of him in a groan, which is an interesting wash of heat down his own dick. He gives a few testing bobs to start, leaves his mouth mostly open, gets it nicely loose and wet. Just a few stretching twists to get his spine used to the sensation. Though he can already push his way to the base with a combination of forward curls and nudges of his raised hips.</p>
<p>Don't get greedy, he tells himself, you're putting on a bloody show here.</p>
<p>He can't see much from his position on the floor, though if he cuts his eyes sideways he can just see the tops of Aziraphale's knees, the way his fingers white-knuckle them. </p>
<p>"Oh." The sound isn't him. It's breathy, startled and intrigued, threaded through with hot little spikes of interest. "Oh, Crowley, that's -" The words cut off in a little huff of surprise, as if maybe Aziraphale hadn't expected him to actually do it, or hadn't expected to find the sight of it so fucking lewd. Crowley knows, <i>he knows</i>, he's taped himself doing this before, studied it from a few angles, toyed with the idea, mostly while very drunk, of putting the video up on some of the more popular porn sites. But he wasn't absolutely certain of exactly how flexible a human spine could get. Of how to make it look like it was hard work for him in a believable way. </p>
<p>But for all that he's thought about it, thought about people watching him - it's nothing compared to having Aziraphale here while he does this. To having him sitting there on the end of the bed, fully dressed, with his curious interest and perfect posture, while Crowley's angular, naked body performs indecent and impossible sex acts for his pleasure. It's nothing compared to hearing him make low, breathy sounds every time Crowley's cheeks hollow, every time he stretches his neck, and pushes up and in with his hips, toes pressed to Aziraphale's old-fashioned carpet, a bouncing flex that nudges the head of his cock into his throat, where it opens eagerly for it.</p>
<p>"Crowley." It's not a question, just the slow, wobbly rush of air that happens to be his name. </p>
<p>He garbles something in the way of a response, helpless to do anything else, cock stiff and hot against his tongue, he can feel the weight of it, the delicious, throbbing ache from both sides. The urge to cram it in his throat and choke on it is fairly strong right now.</p>
<p>"Crowley." Aziraphale's voice is unexpectedly shaky, and Crowley carefully twists his head as far as he can, letting his dick rest on his tongue, saliva pooling.</p>
<p>Aziraphale's legs have opened a little, the pale crotch of his trousers now ruined by the strained jut of fabric covering his own quite obvious erection. </p>
<p>Oh. Oh sweet unholy fuck. Crowley's insides clench desperately at the visual. For some reason he hadn't accounted for the possibility that Aziraphale would be <i>aroused</i> watching him do this. </p>
<p>"You are the very picture of sexual pleasure," Aziraphale tells him. He sounds stunned, maybe he hadn't accounted for the possibility either. "Oh, look at you, you're unbelievably lovely." Aziraphale is gently seeping lust into Crowley's drunken and very appreciative brain right now, and it's making it very hard to remember why they've never done anything like this before.</p>
<p>Crowley's dick gives a quick, greedy twitch against his tongue, the taste of pre-come flooding his mouth. He hears the bed make a soft noise, as the angel leaves it, sinks to the floor in front of him, Crowley can see his fingers curling on the carpet. He can see the way his knees bend. The way his trousers pull tight at the crotch. Crowley's tongue stops obeying his commands to stay human, winds itself around his cock, squeezes tightly.</p>
<p>"Is this alright?" Aziraphale asks quietly, as if he's worried he'll disturb Crowley's concentration.</p>
<p>The question is ludicrous, Aziraphale's close enough to reach out and touch him, to lay his hands anywhere he pleases on Crowley's curved over body. How could any of that not be alright? He hums an affirmative, which doesn't help at all. The vibration sweetly delicious all the way down to his balls.</p>
<p>"May I touch you?" Aziraphale's voice is breathy. "I would very much like to, but I understand if that's not part of the demonstration."</p>
<p><i>Fuck the demonstration</i>.</p>
<p>Crowley slides his free hand across the floor, catches Aziraphale's cool fingers where they're dug in the carpet fibres, and pulls until they're curved round his ankle instead. He hopes that's the sort of non-verbal direction the angel's good with.</p>
<p>Apparently it is, because Aziraphale's hand doesn't stay there, it's as if Crowley's permission makes him brave. The hand squeezes and then slides up his leg, eases it outwards a touch, so Aziraphale can see the slow sink of his mouth to the base of his cock, the angel gives a short, approving noise that's no longer hiding how much he's enjoying this.</p>
<p>"This is astonishingly arousing, I hope you realise that." He almost sounds annoyed, as if Crowley had done this purposefully to seduce him. "You probably knew that didn't you, you fiend."</p>
<p>Crowley's tongue stills, mouth opening, head pulling back until the wet, drooling head of his cock butts against his lips. He really should protest that it wasn't his intention. He doesn't want Aziraphale to think this was a temptation.</p>
<p>"No," Aziraphale's hand curves round the back of his head. "Please don't stop." He's encouraged back down, the movement unexpected and fiercely erotic. Crowley lets himself fold again, cock sliding in to the base, nudging his throat and easing back down it. It punches a wavering groan out of him, and his mouth tastes far more urgent than before. "I was in no way suggesting that you should stop. Or that I disapproved."</p>
<p>Then Aziraphale's big hands are really touching him, drifting over his hips and thighs, the naked, exposed curves of his buttocks. Crowley can't help the ragged moan when the angel's fingers stray down the valley of his arse, a tease of lovely pressure across his arsehole, perineum and balls, as if to test everything in the stretched-out curve of his lower body. Crowley should probably say something, he should probably - they should probably discuss this.</p>
<p>They probably shouldn't be doing this while still mostly drunk, this is probably a terrible idea.</p>
<p>But Crowley has been hoarding touches from the angel for 6000 years, though they've been few, far between, and often ambiguous. He thinks he could be forgiven for losing all sense of scale now he has Aziraphale's hands literally holding his legs open so he can watch Crowley suck his own cock. Complete with warm rushes of air down his inner thigh, and the occasional cheeky thumb across his arsehole. I mean, what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?</p>
<p>"I want to put my fingers inside you," Aziraphale says, soft and hurried like it's a secret. He takes a sharp breath afterwards, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But then he sighs, seems to decide in for a penny in for a pound. "You are unbearably erotic like this, I never imagined it. I thought I'd imagined everything but never this. I want to touch you while you pleasure yourself. Can I do that?"</p>
<p><i>Fuck</i>.</p>
<p>Crowley can't talk, his mouth is currently full, because of course it is when Aziraphale has suddenly decided he's going to start spouting obscene requests. He garbles something which he hopes is encouragement. It must be because Aziraphale is tucking in behind him, and the hand he's touching Crowley with is suddenly slick with lubricant. He's being very careful not to knock Crowley out of his careful rhythm, which he's clearly enjoying if the way he keeps pausing to look is any indication.</p>
<p>"It's been a while since I did this," Aziraphale admits. "Though I was once quite expertly fingered in a dark room in a certain Gentleman's Club." There's a soft breath of air and a warm hand spreads his buttocks open indecently wide. "I felt rather guilty at the time imagining it was you."</p>
<p>Crowley manages not to choke on his cock, though he does give a quiet, strangled whimper around it, because Aziraphale can't just say things like that. He can't just admit that he thought about Crowley while some strange human fingerfucked him in the back room of some fancy bloody club. While he was taking a nap like the idiot he is. It's not fair.</p>
<p>They haven't even kissed.</p>
<p>He finds himself distracted when one of Aziraphale's lovely, thick fingers circles teasingly around his arsehole, spreading warmth and lubricant, before carefully pushing inside. And then he's coping with a whole host of new sensations, the slick, tight stretch of his arse, the quick, vibrating groan of a mouth on his cock, the solid, heavy push of a cock in his mouth. Aziraphale's lovely weight against his back, where his spine is still half-twisted round. </p>
<p>Crowley's brain tells him they're having sex, that this officially counts, but he's not sure if he believes it.</p>
<p>He makes another garbled noise of approval, or encouragement, or possibly quiet pleading, he doesn't fucking know what the noises he's making are any more, and his mouth is currently too occupied to care. He sucks himself on every slow slide back, makes his own hips jerk, arsehole tightening pleasantly on Aziraphale moving finger, which get him a greedy, hungry sound of approval that he's only ever heard the angel make around a particularly decadent gateaux.</p>
<p>"You're a marvel," Aziraphale tells him. The words a forceful rush of shameless desire. As if that wasn't obvious enough by the ceaseless, greedy touch of his hands, the quick press in of a second slick finger, so two are now moving in quick, deep thrusts into his body. Occasionally they'll stretch and nudge his prostate, dragging a whimper out of him. "Crowley, can I - would you let me - I want to be inside you when you come. Is that too much to ask? Is that something you'd want?"</p>
<p>Oh, Satan, the thought of it. The thought of the angel spreading him open, sliding in deep and hard, while Crowley satisfies himself with his own, slick, sucking mouth. Of Aziraphale fucking Crowley just like this, until his arse is aching and well-used, and dripping angel come all over this fancy carpet.  </p>
<p>Crowley shudders, teeth scraping the base of his cock in a way that's more pleasure than pain. He can't answer, he can't speak, he's close and hot and twisting with too many feelings. But he can reach back, long fingers flailing for the waist, and then the crotch, of Aziraphale's trousers, tugging at the zip and trying to push inside - Aziraphale catches his hand, presses it down on a wavering breath. It's a fucking terrible angle, but he has Aziraphale's cock under his hand, the fat, wide shape of it, beautifully hard and exactly what he wants inside him at this very moment in time. He's pulling wetly off his own cock, mouth trailing spit, breathing too hard. Head dizzy with alcohol and lust.</p>
<p>"Please, fuck, yes."</p>
<p>There's a rush of delighted breath, and fingers tangling in his hair, before his head is being pushed back down, his open, gasping mouth abruptly filled again with his own cock - which is probably the dirtiest thing anyone has ever done to him. Aziraphale controls his movement for a few blisteringly hot moments. Before his hand slips free.</p>
<p>"Don't stop," the angel says again, voice shaken and hot. "You look - you make such a beautifully erotic picture. I've never seen anything like it - please don't stop."</p>
<p>Then Aziraphale is shuffling hurriedly closer. Crowley hears the soft sound of a cardigan being cast aside, the hasty shove of clothing and he has to relax his mouth around his cock, stop sucking, stop thrusting, every part of him suddenly coiled tight with desperate arousal. He's fairly sure he's going to come down his own throat if he even breathes funny.</p>
<p>Aziraphale's cock is abruptly a naked, well-lubricated weight between his spread buttocks, nudging against his slick arsehole, before Aziraphale puts pressure there, opens him in a slow, delicious burn. He can feel the tight stretch of his rim, the greedy push of a blood-hot dick into him. Which feels pleasantly inevitable. He's moaning, mouth open and wet, drooling saliva all the way down to his balls.</p>
<p>His legs are spread at a strange angle, Aziraphale's arm curled under his raised knee to hold him open, while still letting him fold into his groin. No one else on earth would be able to hold this position and Crowley can't help but feel a little smug about it, because it means no one else gets to have this. Ever. Crowley makes choked noises around his cock when Aziraphale slides impossibly deep into his tightly curled body.</p>
<p>"<i>Crowley</i>." The angel's pelvis is pressed flush to his arse, he's lodged himself all the way inside, filled Crowley obscenely well, chest an awkward crush to his raised leg and rounded shoulder, fingers digging under his knee, the hot rush of breath over the twist of his back. Crowley can't make any coherent sounds, he can't push back, he can't pull away, Aziraphale has him exquisitely pinned, impaled at both ends, to use as he pleases. Crowley wants nothing more than to be fucked until he can't remember his own name.</p>
<p>His mouth pulls at his cock, eagerly, instinctively, which makes his spine quiver pleasantly, makes his arsehole flutter and clench around the angel's dick, and there's a low, punched noise of arousal, before Aziraphale seems to realise that Crowley doesn't need him to wait, he draws back, and then pushes in again, and again. The breath rushing out of him in shivery bursts that sound incredibly unangelic. </p>
<p>The angle is not great for fucking, or for the delicious addition of angelic enthusiasm that Crowley's fairly sure is going to leave his arse nicely bruised. The whole thing is a touch awkward and would probably be more uncomfortable if Crowley wasn't already half out of his mind. Aziraphale won't stop talking, won't stop describing what he looks like, telling him how well he's doing, telling him how good he feels, just a drunken spill of words that are gently peeling him open, and Crowley's throat is so tight around his cock he's not sure it's ever going to feel right again. He's holding off orgasm by the skin of his fucking teeth, sucking gently every time he's impaled from behind. He wants -</p>
<p>He wants.</p>
<p>He scrabbles around until he finds Aziraphale's hand, pulls it up to his head. Thankfully the angel doesn't need further instruction, clever bastard that he is. He tangles those impossibly strong fingers in Crowley's hair, and takes over, he works Crowley's mouth down on his cock with rough, greedy pushes. Until he's just sensation, and need, and helpless, filthy lust. He can feel the sharp bite of fingers in his hair, the rough push of a cock down his throat, the wet clenching heat of a mouth on his cock. The heavy, spearing thrusts of Aziraphale's dick in his arse, jabbing roughly across his prostate -</p>
<p>Crowley's entire mind whites out, insides pulling into a knot of impossible pleasure. He can feel himself spilling hot pulses of come across his tongue and down his throat, he can feel himself trembling and moaning, swallowing helplessly, arsehole clenching down in a deliciously tight sting on Aziraphale's cock.</p>
<p>It's a lot.</p>
<p>Fuck it's a lot.</p>
<p>Just right. Too much. His whole body is shaking with it.</p>
<p>Until he gives one last shudder, and then uncoils, open mouth wet and numb, all the tension tugged out of him. He lets Aziraphale hold him up, while he floats in incredible, hazy bliss, feeling the smack of hips against his limp body, feeling the angel finally push deep, give the soft, moaning exhale of his name. He can feel the long, hot spill of come Aziraphale leaves inside him, and it's good, it's all so fucking good. The best thing ever.</p>
<p>When he feels like being part of the world again they're both sprawled together on the floor, and Crowley feels utterly boneless. The angel is a stretch of heat behind him, and there's a heavy arm curled tightly round his waist, a mouth pressed warm and wet against the curve of his throat. Crowley can feel Aziraphale's damp, sticky cock squashed against the base of his spine, and there's probably spunk all over the carpet. </p>
<p>He feels very drunk, and very well-fucked. He wonders, idly, if he could get Aziraphale to kiss him.</p>
<p>"Sooo, demonstration a success?" he asks.</p>
<p>Aziraphale makes a strange noise, somewhere between embarrassment and dazed bliss.</p>
<p>"I have certainly learned <i>something</i> today," he agrees.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736083">[Podfic] Demonstrations</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/pseuds/Literarion">Literarion</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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